Sealed With a Loving Kiss
by MadClairvoyant
Summary: Harry never enjoyed his life with the Dursleys, wishing that a relative would come to rescue him. So, what if, one day she does come? She, the daughter of a famous murderer, neglected her entire life, come rescue The-Boy-Who-Lived? My, my, you better run, Dursley!
1. A new beginning

**Disclaimer: So this will bet be the only one for this story, and it is that I obviously do not own Harry Potter nor any part of its franchise. This is my first story in this fandom, so if you liked it and want me to continue, please do tell me! I have planned out parts of it, but I am not sure if this storyline would be liked, so read ahead and do review.**

**Without further ado, I present to you...**

"Boy, get down here!" The harsh bellow could be heard through all of Privet Drive. Now, Vernon Dursley was a very large man, and the boy he was currently yelling at was his nephew. His nephew, Harry Potter, who was greatly dwarfed by his immense frame.

Putting his puce-coloured face near the young boy's, he snarled, "Tell me, exactly why did your teacher complain that you turned her wig blue?"

At six, Harry was thin, unhealthily so, with great respect to Uncle Vernon's temper. Hence, his body trembled as he whispered, "I don't know—" The meek, quiet voice was cut off by the roar, "Silence! I want no more of this freakish business anymore, do you understand?"

Without being able to reply, Dudley sniggered and cut in, "The little freak was laughing, wasn't he?" The lie slipped between his lips in such a blasé manner, as casual as the backhanded blow he dealt to his cousin's face. Smirking slightly, Vernon picked the boy bodily up and shouted in his ears.

"Into the cupboard! And no meals!"

Satisfied with the outcome, he opened the cupboard's door, threw Harry in, and slammed it shut, locking it.

It was with great surprise, therefore, when he turned around to see a beautiful girl standing at the doorway, smiling coldly, enunciating her words carefully.

"I don't think so, Vernon Dursley."

He wondered why her face seemed so familiar, almost like …

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Petunia looked oddly at the girl. Somehow, her features struck a chord in her; she had seen them somewhere before. Strangely, she associated them with her sister, but her sister looked nothing like that. And her husband didn't either. Yet she was so sure about it, the high cheekbones, fine eyebrows, straight nose, full lips, pale skin, black hair, right down to the grey eyes. They elicited the memory of laughter and mischief.

Something clicked in her mind; the boy who always hung around her brother-in-law. The nasty one who played a prank on Vernon, and had a very odd name. What was it again? Serious, ah, yes, Sirius. Sirius Black.

Looking across the room, she saw a brief flash of recognition, by fear and disgust, in her husband's face, and she knew he remembered. It wasn't just about being a freak; he never saw the boy in his element, only knew that he played that one prank. Shuddering, Petunia recalled the mess. But more importantly, Vernon had only seen Sirius Black once; in the news, guilty of mass murder.

They had what could possibly the spawn of a mad man. In their house. Right here in Privet Drive, where everything was prim and proper, and the neighbours who would kill for a tidbit or two. Catching a glimpse of the girl's eyes, she suddenly realized that it made perfect sense why he could have done something so horrible. She had no problems believing that the girl was too.

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She had a clear voice, the kind that was icy and delicate, yet underneath, there was a surprising hint of steel and fire. It sounded dangerous, it sounded different, and Harry never wished to escape the cupboard more than he ever did. She was a stranger, someone whom he never knew, perhaps a relative who had finally come to take him away. But more importantly, she brought in, with her strangeness, a hint of freedom, and the real world.

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The fat revolting walrus-like piece of blubber with as much brain as a walnut stood gaping in front of her. There; she got all her insults out nicely, and it helped her to cool down as she plotted her next move. As a Slytherin, she never recklessly got herself in trouble, though this should count. And yet, she was at a lost as to what to do. She had begun to watch the boy after realizing that he was not actually treated well. And this was intolerable. A great muggle idiot, raising the child like that. No, she had to do something about it


	2. Breaking and entering

Swatting at the heavy ringlets that framed her face, she snapped at Dursley. "Just what are you playing at? How can you just treat a wizard-" She ignored the scandalized gasp of the horse-faced woman and pressed on. "Like this! With such disrespect. You, a filthy little muggle, dare scorn little Harry Potter? Release him at once!"

Spluttering in fury, Vernon snarled. "Don't tell me what to do; you are one of those _freaks._ All of you-" His rant was abruptly cut off as the young lady lost her patience and leveled her dreaded wooden stick at him and whispered, softly, dangerously. "Release him, now. You are unfit to care for the boy." Her voice never increased in its volume, keeping the same lady-like characteristic, but the murderous gleam in her eyes made Petunia's hands shake as she rushed over to the cupboard and flung the door open dragging the poor boy out and all but threw him to her, sacrificing what was left of her sister without a second thought.

"Go! Take him. We never wanted him anyway." She shrieked angrily,

Smiling sweetly, she lifted the young boy and walked to the door, throwing one last repartee at them.

"When Dumbledore comes calling, tell him that it was Bellatrix Black."

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Harry, he was not ashamed to admit, was dead afraid of the woman, girl, holding him. No one he had seen had ever frightened Uncle Vernon, and he was a little afraid of someone who did. But his curiosity got the better of him, and he asked, quietly.

"Who are you?"

Looking oddly at him, she rolled her eyes before repeating herself. "Bellatrix Black. Do pay more attention to things around you."

Cringing at the reprimand, Harry withdrew into himself, wondering what he had gotten himself into. Bellatrix evidently saw it, and sighed, her face softening slightly and she said in a gentler voice.

"It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you. Just remember, you need to be able to know you surroundings well, in order to defend yourself, okay?"

Her soothing voice calmed him, and he relaxed. She looked oddly familiar, though he was sure he had never seen anyone so pretty before.

"Where are we going?" As ever, it was a child's nature to have to know where they were going. She wondered what on earth she was getting herself into, to go into this. Sighing for the umpteenth time, she patiently explained. "You'll see."

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The strange girl had held on to him tightly, and retrieved a thin, wooden stick from her pocket. She waved it around, muttered some weird jumble, and then poof! He was squeezed in this small little tube and he couldn't _breathe_, and suddenly, they were in front of an odd neighbourhood.

Having grown up most his life in Privet Drive, he had grown used to seeing the neat little houses, uniform in colour and design, with everything orderly and height, and everything was so dark and mysterious. Squinting at the signs, he was shocked. In Privet Drive, things were always in numerical order, but it wasn't here! It was eleven on the left, then thirteen on his right. Where had twelve gone to? As though she heard his question, she thrust to him a piece of paper and grumbled. "Read it."

There were alphabets on the white paper, and he struggled to make sense of them; he wasn't very good yet. Impatiently, the pretty girl glared at him, and he could feel blood rushing to his face; it wasn't his fault that he couldn't read properly yet. Even Dudley, whom his aunt tried desperately to teach, couldn't recognize some letters. Finally though, he had managed to scan through the funny name.

In that instant, eleven and thirteen began to creek, and their windows rattled. He was very alarmed; couldn't they feel their building shifting? The next thing took his mind off it though. A building, tall, dark and imposing had appeared, between the two, and he cowered.

"Welcome," Bellatrix said dryly. "To Twelve Grimmauld Place."


End file.
